


Give Us A Little Love

by thegaygladers



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: CONTAINS SEXUAL ABUSE, High School AU, M/M, Yayyy, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegaygladers/pseuds/thegaygladers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton Isaacs was being bullied. </p><p> </p><p>Thomas Williams had had anger issues since fifth grade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Us A Little Love

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summaries and I'm sorry

“Can you decipher this code, nerd? It says “Your cute little ass would look better screaming in my bed””, he smirked dumbly.

Newt was, yet again, pressed against the now familiar wall by his bully, the boy rubbing against him in a way that was sexual and sadistic.

His name was Tristan, and he was a senior. Newt was a sophomore.

This had been a daily thing ever since Newt had set foot In The Glade Highschool, since word had got out that the “new guy is gay!”

It was a known fact throughout the school that Tristan would fuck anything and everything that had a pulse; but Newt seemed to be the only person in light of the abusive and perverted nature that went with these fads.  He had kept his mouth shut about these happenings, because Tristan was popular and interesting and everyone  _liked_ him, and if Newt seemed to think otherwise, he would be the one in the wrong.  No one would ever believe him.

It was not like he was dying to share how  _weak_ and _helpless_ he was.

Newt doubted if even Thomas Williams knew about this one of his best friend’s sickening hobbies.

But then again, what if this was their secret source of amusement? What if the two laughed about how weak and helpless Newt was?

_What if Thomas was just as bad?_

“C’mon, love _, talk to me_ ,” Tristan pressed impossibly closer, his lips grazing Newt’s as he spoke. He thrust against Newt’s hipbones, his lips moving down to Newt’s collarbone.

Newt, unable to do much else, let out a whimper. He turned his face away so his cheek was pressed against the wall.

Tristan callously seized Newt’s face, turning it back. The grip left livid red bruises, standing out on Newt’s pale skin.

“I said:  _Talk. To. Me_.  _Love_ ,” Tristan growled, thrusting onto Newt’s lower half again.

“Talk,”

Thrust.

“To,”

Thrust.

“ _Me._ ”

Newt felt tears, threatening, horrifying tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to give in so easily, but the amalgamation of humiliation, pain, disgust,  _anger_  and self- repulsion along with pressure of settling into a new school on a completely different  _continent_  to his previous got the better of him. He’d held himself together for way too long now; he had no choice but to break, fall apart against his bully’s chest in a pitiful crumble.

Tristan’s eyes widened, and he let go of Newt as if the blond carried a contagious, deadly disease. His face was screwed up in repugnance.

With no Tristan holding him up anymore, Newt slumped to the ground in a heap. His face was obscured behind his knees, arms hugging his kneecaps.

 _At least he let go of me_ , Newt thought.  _May it mean an increase in my vulnerability around him and Thomas._

_And Thomas._

Why did that scare him so much?

“I’ll get ya, Isaacs,” Tristan backed away hastily; “This isn’t over.”

And then he was gone.

Newt must have sat there, outside the boys’ changing rooms, for hours. He didn’t notice the time passing. He didn’t notice when his body stopped shaking and didn’t notice when his breathing returned to normal.

He didn’t notice when a certain boy with skin speckled with moles and eyes the brown of honey clenched his fists and turned his mind to murder.

Anyone would have, if they saw the mess that Newt had become.

–

Thomas knew he should’ve stopped it when he saw it happen.

But his feet had been frozen in place with horror that was lead- heavy and shock that turned him motionless.

Finding out you loved a monster was a hard thing indeed.

Thomas hadn’t fallen in love with Tristan, though. He’d fallen for the guy Tristan pretended to be.

There was a reason Thomas had stayed back in school that day, without anyone’s knowledge. The reality of his feelings for his _best friend_  had come crashing upon him in the middle of after school soccer practice, and he’d been overwhelmed. He’d told Tristan to leave without him.

 _“Did he know I was still in there?”_ Thomas thought.

 _“Maybe he didn’t care enough to check,”_ his subconscious replied solemnly.

A day ago, the thought would have left Thomas more distraught than was acceptable, but today, things were different.

 _“Ah, the fragility of puppy love,_ ” Thomas chuckled to himself bitterly.

Thomas didn’t know what he’d do to Tristan if he saw him; he'd been avoiding him all day. Whatever it was, though, he knew it was not good.

He’d had anger issues since fifth grade.

Thomas’s thoughts drifted to the boy Tristan was with.

 _Newton Isaacs,_  Thomas remembered reading it somewhere. Thomas was head boy, he knew pretty much everyone in the school.

Newton had been helpless and skinny and young.

 _You’re hardly two years older,_  Thomas told himself-

_Thump!_

And of course, it was Tristan Thomas had managed to walk into.

Tristan was lounging in an empty corridor, chewing gum, a dirty bottle in one hand. (It looked terribly like cheap beer.)

“Watch where you’re goin’, mate,” Tristan said, voice as boyish and confident as ever. “Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt, do we?”

Thomas had to clasp his hands tightly behind his back to avoid himself from punching the stupid grin off Tristan’s face. He realized that he’d been trying hard to control his own smile, which came naturally when he was with  _this_  boy. He felt sick at himself.

Here Tristan was, pretty and sarcastic and  _hot_ , seemingly harmless, the Tristan Thomas had fallen for.

 _“How easy it would be,”_ Thomas thought. “ _To just believe every lie he told?”_

But Thomas was brave and strong and had always believed what his mother had told him when he was very young.

_“Thomas, you are good.”_

And maybe that’s why Thomas gave up the act, stopped fooling around.  _He was good._

“Did you take Newt to the hospital?” Thomas asked, seemingly void of any emotion.

“Wha’?”

“Did you take  _Newt_ to the hospital,” Thomas repeated. “I saw he'd acquired quite the bruises.”

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, Tom-”

“Don’t.”

“Tom, mate-”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT, YOU PATHETIC, SICKENING LITTLE SHIT!” Thomas felt a surge of the hot anger Tristan had once helped him learn to control. The memory only made him angrier. “YOU FUCKING-”

***

The next thing Thomas saw was a white room, with white sheets and medical instruments beside his bed, and the sound of two people talking. Thomas dreadfully recognized a British accent, the one of its kind in the American high school. He groaned.

“Thomas! Are you awake?” The  _other_  voice- the counsellor (and sometimes nurse) – spoke.

“No shit, Paige,” Thomas muttered.

“Language, Mr. Williams,” Ava said firmly, though Thomas caught a whiff of motherly warmth underneath. “What did you do this time?”

Thomas really liked Ava, she’d supported him when he’d been an outcast. He had never forgotten her, still came to talk her sometimes, whenever he could.

“C’mon, Ava-”

“-Ms. Paige-”

“Whatever- my last case was, like, two years ago,” Thomas finished.

They were interrupted by a small noise, which sounded weirdly like “umuhh”.

They both looked to the blond boy, who looked out-of-place and very uncomfortable indeed.

“I don’t understand why they brought this poor kid here, they said Tristan kept moaning his name,” Ava looked apologetically at Newt; she’d always been disapproving of Tristan. She then sent a pointed glare at Thomas. “Don’t, Thomas.”

Thomas had almost made a joke about the word ‘moaned’ but he stopped himself. Now was not the time.

Newt was looking at him in utmost horror and wariness, had been the whole time.

“I’m so sorry, man, Newton-”

“I kn-n-know what-t-t you di-did,” the blond cut him off. “I j-jus-just don’t understand why-y.”

“He was -!” Thomas looked at Ava, and then back to Newt questioningly. Newt nodded, a kind of a “this couldn’t get any worse” kind of nod. “-he was, he was-  _doing_  stuff to you!”

Ava’s eyes widened, and her head snapped sideways to look at Newt. “What!” she looked traumatized, her motherly side overpowering the false sweetness of the staff, “Does anyone else know about this? I- This- This is a serious problem, Mr. Isaacs, are you aware of that?”

“Yes, Ms. Paige,” Thomas looked up in awe; the voice didn’t sound like the stuttering jumble it had been seconds ago. It was bold and clear, and Thomas felt a bizarre feeling in his gut. The confidence in Newt’s voice made him happy.

Amongst other things…

“And you still haven’t reported it?” Ava looked completely bemused, to say the least. “Why? Has Mr. Hill been blackmailing you?”

“No, nothing of the sort, miss.”

Thomas was staring now.

He didn’t realize it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Mr. Isaacs? You knew what Mr. Hill was doing was wrong, and he wasn’t doing anything to shut you up about it, and yet you said nothing? Why?”

“I was ashamed of myself.”

Newt said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that Thomas had to do a double take to make sure he’d heard the boy right.

“Excuse  _me_?  _You_ were ashamed? That- that-  _boy_  almost raped you, Newton, and  _you_ were ashamed?” Thomas asked incredulously, and winced when he aggravated what he assumed was a broken shoulder.  _Tristan did that to me,_  he thought subconsciously.

“Mr. Williams, I think you should-” Ava tried to intervene, but to no avail.

“Yes,” Newt replied.

“Ava, do you hear the boy?! This is ridiculous!”

“Thomas, calm down.”

Thomas was about to rant further when he realized the voice wasn’t Ava’s, but rather, Newt’s. This was the first time the boy had actually spoken directly to Thomas, and the way he looked at him caused the return of the same bizarre feeling in Thomas’s gut.

“Newt, you don’t-”

“ _You_  don’t understand, do you? Life is not as easy for everyone as it is for you, Thomas. I knew,” Newt paused, breathing deeply, his hands clasped tightly on his lap. “That something like this would happen. Either, these happenings would go completely unnoticed, or it would just cause drama – like right now – and it would be given too much attention. I don’t want that. I just want… to not be abused, and there was no way to stop that, so I stayed quiet.”

“Newt, listen-”

“Will you give us a moment, Ms. Paige?” Newt asked Ava, looking at Thomas still.

Ava looked uncertain, but after a minute gave a little huff of obstinacy and left. Thomas caught the words “kids these days” and “getting hurt” and “don’t deserve this” in the air as she walked past.

Newt turned to look at Thomas again; he’d been staring at the door to make sure they were alone.

Suddenly Thomas felt tense and queasy and the situation felt foreboding, but he could do nothing but sit still on his bed and face whatever was coming. He felt pain in places he hadn’t known existed before then.

“Thomas. I don’t know how you got to know whatever you did, and- don’t give me that look, I’m not dumb, I know it’s about me. Tristan kept saying my name, for god’ sake- I don’t want you getting involved, okay? Stay out of it.”

“Yeah well, he’s not gonna lay a finger on you ever again, so that won’t be too hard.”

“Thomas.”

“Yeah, dude. Okay. Whatever.”

“Thank you.”

Thomas was taken by surprise at the sudden change in tone, and he looked up at Newt.

“Thank you? Why?”

“Why do you think, you bloody idiot,” Newt smiled. It was a very pretty smile, Thomas thought to himself unconsciously. “I could’ve done it myself, but I’m quite against violence, as you may or may not have noticed.”

“ _You_?” Thomas laughed. “ _You_  could’ve taken Tristan?”

Newt sighed. He lifted his T-shirt a little to reveal part of a pale white, smooth and seemingly immaculate arm that Thomas had never seen before. Veins stood out vividly like ropes, and there was not a shred of excess fat, but just enough. Newt flexed lightly, and Thomas was enlightened about the truth of Newt’s words. He  _could_  have taken Tristan.

“Black belt in Taekwondo, and quite good at Marshal Arts. I’m acceptable at weight lifting and boxing, too, actually,” Newt boasted, letting his shirt fall back to cover his arms. Thomas almost -  _almost_  – protested. “That’s the thing about being a sophomore, and a nerd- the seniors underestimate ya.”

Thomas was too fascinated by this boy to feel annoyed at his conceit or get mad at his calm acceptance of abuse.

“That’s- that’s actually  _impressive_ , man.”

“Yeah, I  _have_  spent forever on it.”

“You could say it worked.”

“Aw,  _Tommy_ ,” Thomas knew Newt was kidding, but the use of the nickname gave him an odd sort of satisfaction, happiness, even. It sounded right, coming out of Newt’s mouth. “I live in the St. James Street, if you wanna send me rose- scented love letters and chocolates.”

“Pshhh, I don’t date babies,” Thomas flirted, very baffled indeed at the turn their conversation had taken. He realized, embarrassedly, that he had on the stupid smirk he used to get people to sleep with him, and turned an unflattering shade of scarlet. Why was he doing that to  _Newt_ , of all people? He hoped the blond wouldn’t notice.

“And I don’t date violent assholes,” Newt said, and Thomas realized he’d moved closer. Their faces were centimeters apart now, and Newt was whispering. “Do you know that you almost punctured Tristan’s lung?”

That was not a very romantic thing to say.

“He… would have deserved it,” Thomas said, lost in the swirls of the design of Newt’s muddy brown eyes. It was not something he was doing intentionally.

“How cute,” Newt’s lip actually brushed Thomas’s this time, before the boy withdrew and was standing in the doorway in what seemed like an instant.

Thomas let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and looked at Newt’s full form properly for the first time. He almost had started hyperventilating.

How dumb he was to not have noticed Newt before? How terrible was it that they had to be introduced to each other like _this_?

Newt was…

Thomas couldn’t form coherent thoughts, let alone actual verbal sentences, and so wasn’t able to stop Newt before he disappeared out the door.

That was the first night Thomas fell asleep thinking of Newt, and something told him it wasn’t the last.

What he didn't know was that one day, he’d fall asleep with Newt actually there, next to him.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”


End file.
